the street lights and traffic lights spread, dripped and dribbled all over the canvas of my sight before disappearing completely.
The weight of reality seemed lighter; the substance of my own clothing grew less significant until there seemed to be no more feeling against my skin, no itch of fabric, no prickle of humidity, no tickle of cool breeze.
Bridge, river, cliff, shore, ledge. The images beckoned, and I followed, using them as a beacon, imagining the jumble as bright, glowing pieces, forming a brilliant light, flashing on and off, the hum modulating with the light's flashing rhythm. Fly toward the light!
The light dimmed ever so slightly. The flashing slowed, the humming quieted, a nearly imperceptible difference at first, almost unbelievable, a trick, a distortion of the warpage of this sensation as affected by pure spatial separation.
The light dimmed. The flashing slowed. The humming quieted.
The beacon seemed to move further away. How could that be? Impossible. Moving toward it. It seemed to move further away. Was it not a fixed spot? How could it move away as I moved toward it?
My grip was loosening. Fingers weakened, simply unable to hold much more. My consciousness had reached the apex of its capabilities and was coming crashing down as my entire being was indeed losing its cohesion.
Nicole? My mind struggled to even remember her name, to even remember what it was that was being attempted. To remember why. Struggling ceased. My individuality yielded to the all-encompassing air. No longer me. Just air. Just everything. Just euphoria.
A voice screamed.
Al!
Al. Keep it together. Dammit, you're so close.
Keep
It
Together
Blinding light seared, flashing so rapidly as to be constantly light and dark. The hum grew louder and louder until it appeared as grains in front of my eyes, forming a tapestry, painting a pointelist portrait of forest, a bridge and sheer ledges above a rushing river. And twin beams of light.
Suddenly, the grinding filled my ears with sound. A yellow cab bore down upon me. Brakes squealed, and the cab came to a shaking stop, the bumper coming to rest mere inches from my shins.
Nicole jumped out of the cab and slammed the door shut with all the force she could muster. Kicking bits of gravel, she bounded toward me and slapped me hard across the face.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she shrieked.
I squelched a smile. "Just what I felt necessary." That was my only reply; no other words seemed necessary.
Nicole slapped me again, then turned back toward the cab.
"Could you at least give me a ride back to town?"
She spun toward me. Even in the moonlight, her face was luridly red. "Fly back. You seemed to get here with little trouble."
"Please, Nicole. This trip has pushed me to the absolute limits of my ability. I can scarcely stand, let alone attempt to return."
She threw her arms up in the air and returned to her cab. The gesture seemed to indicate a resigned willingness to provide me transportation back to civilization.
No words were exchanged during the return trip. Nicole seemed too angry to speak, and I simply was content to let her be angry, to let her be angry at me. At least that way she would be safe from herself for the time being. Anger, though a powerful emotion, is relatively sane compared to the tangle of confused and contradictory emotions that had led her to this place.
"Well," she spat when we had returned to my cab, "your stupid debt of honor is paid, so you can leave me the fuck alone."
"I will comply with your wishes." With that, I departed, fully satisfied to let her think whatever she wanted, whatever might help keep her alive, knowing full well that the debt had not been paid. Yes, I had saved her life, but at the same time, she had saved mine.
****
Two nights later, I found a sealed envelope outside my apartment door. It was a letter from Nicole.
Dear Al:
First, I just have to say, I'm sorry about how I treated you. You really are a special person, or whatever, and you deserved better than the kind of shit I gave you.
Second, I really have to say thanks. I've cooled off a bit, and I now realize that you saved my life, even if I didn't want it saved. I'm sorry, but you just have to understand that I'm really kind of fucked in the head, and sometimes I do things to hurt myself. Unfortunately, sometimes good people like you and Maggie get caught in the crossfire.